It's An Illusion
by KyrielF
Summary: It's been nearly a year since the survivors of Oceanic Air flight 815 were rescued, and now all they have left to do is learn to deal with every day life again. All's going well until one survivor's past comes back to haunt him...
1. PROLOGUE: The Job

**Disclaimer: **The series 'Lost' and all of it's characters belong to JJ Abrams and ABC. The story, Taylor McCarthy, and any other characters not found on 'Lost' belong to me.

**It's An Illusion

* * *

**

**PROLOGUE:** The Job  
_"Ford? I thought he was dead."_

* * *

A light breeze blew through the small suburb of Burbank, which sat quietly on the outskirts of Los Angeles. Leaves rustled, and a few drifted onto the streets, signaling the end of summer and the coming of autumn. There were no cars on the street except for a blank Mercedes Benz pulling onto Cedar Street. A dark man in the back seat peered through tinted windows at the small, nearly identical houses that lined the sidewalks of the tiny neighborhood.

"Right here," the man said to his driver in a low, gravely voice. The car slowed to a stop in front of a small house with a brown, sloping roof, and a small apple tree in the front yard. From the curb, the man could see a swing-set perched on the lawn behind the house. That didn't sway him, however.

Pulling out a small cell phone, the man dialed a number, watching the shuttered windows out of the corner of his eye. Raising the phone to his ear, he waited exactly four rings before another man answered on the other end.

"Hello?" said the man who had just picked up the phone.

"I have another job for you," said the man in the car, his voice low and calm. He could hear a woman talking to her child in the background.

"What? Y-You said I was finished. That there would be no more jobs..."

"Either way you have no choice but to take it."

The man in the car heard the other whispering to his wife, telling her to take the kids out back to play on the swings.

"Please..." said the man in the house, once his wife and children were outside. "I've got kids now - A family. I can't--"

"Are you saying you don't want the job?" There was a small pause, an eerie pause that sent a chill down the other man's spine as the click of a gun being cocked echoed through the air.

"No, sir" the man in the house replied in a defeated tone. "No, I-I want the job."

"Good boy." The gun had been put away. "I assume you still have your old equipment?"

"Yes... Down in the basement. My wife doesn't know I still have it."

"Perfect. I need you to find as much information as you can on one: Ford, James."

"Ford? I thought he was dead."

"Well, if he were dead, would I be giving you this job?"

"N-No, sir. I just thought -- Wasn't he in a plane crash a while ago?"

"That's not important. What's important is that you send me all the information you can retrieve on James Ford. I want to know where he is at all times -- What he sees when he wakes up, where he eats breakfast, who his friends are. Everything."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm glad we could come to this agreement."

"Yes, sir." There was another pause. "If I may ask... Why exactly do you need all this information?"

"Why else?"

"... Sir?"

_"Revenge_ is the reason for everything." With that, the man in the car snapped his cell phone shut, nodding at his driver, who sped off immediately.

* * *

**A/N:** This is my first 'Lost' fic that isn't a one-shot, so be nice! Reviews boost my ego, so help me out here. ((wink, wink))


	2. CHAPTER ONE: A Phone Call

**Disclaimer: **The series 'Lost' and all of it's characters belong to JJ Abrams and ABC. The story, Taylor McCarthy, and any other characters not found on 'Lost' belong to me.

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE:** A Phone Call  
_"I hate surprises, Freckles."

* * *

_

On the top floor of the freshly built apartments on San Fernando road and Olive, James "Sawyer" Ford had just fallen asleep. He had literally stayed up half the night counting sheep - his sleeping schedule had never been quite normal since the crash. It was hard enough trying to get to sleep in the middle of downtown Burbank, but being stranded on an island with danger lurking in every corner had allowed him to develop a tendency to stay awake, to stay alert and watch for predators. Finally, however, after counting exactly six-hundred and twenty-three sheep, Sawyer had fallen asleep.

It was only too convenient for the phone to ring right at that moment.

Mother _fuck_, Sawyer thought, suppressing the urge to throw the phone out his bedroom window. Picking it up quickly, he growled an angry "Hello!" into the receiver.

"Sawyer?" came a female voice from the other end. He recognized it immediately.

"Kate, do you have any idea what time it is?" Sawyer grumbled, wondering who in their right mind would call someone at three in the morning.

"Sorry, I couldn't sleep," Kate said lazily, not sounding very apologetic at all. "Could you?"

"Well, even if I could, I'm not right now, am I," Sawyer replied icily, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "What do you want, anyway? I gave you this number for emergencies, so what the hell--"

"The rest of us are getting together this weekend," Kate interjected, cutting him off. "You know, like a reunion type thing."

"You call that an emergency?"

"Sawyer..."

"I'm going to sleep now, Kate."

"_Sawyer_..."

"What!" Sawyer growled, almost ready to slam the phone down and rip the cord out of the wall. "I'm too tired right now to be lectured about what an asshole I am for not wantin' to go to some little tea party of yours! I haven't slept properly in weeks, and the one night that I finally catch a break is the one where you decide to stay up all night callin' random people at three in the goddamn morning!"

"There's no point in a get-together if not everybody is around to actually get together!" Kate argued. Sawyer let out a groan of frustration, slumping backwards into his pillow.

"If you hadn't noticed, I wasn't exactly Mr. Popularity back there!" Sawyer exclaimed. "They wouldn't care if I was there or not."

"I think you'd be surprised."

"I hate surprises, Freckles." Sawyer heard a small giggle from the other end of the phone, and couldn't help but smile a little. "And besides, I might steal the silverware."

"I'm sure they'll live without a couple forks," Kate replied. "So, will you go? You know you want to..."

"Actually, Freckles, I know I _don't_ want to, but if it means that much to you, I'll go."

"Really?" Kate said, sounding slightly surprised. "Wow, I thought I'd have to beg a little more than that before you caved."

"I'd say anything to make you get off the damn phone with me right now."

"You haven't changed."

"Did you expect me to?"

"Eh, not really."

"Say 'hi' to the Doc for me. 'Night."

"Bye."

Sawyer hung up the phone, feeling relieved. He was suddenly more tired than he had been a couple minutes ago, probably because talking to, or even just thinking about Kate Austin was exhausting. It always had been, even back when they were stranded together on an island in the middle of nowhere - two outcasts in a group of people they just did not fit in with. Kate, however, was more adaptable, and soon found her place among them, but Sawyer? Sawyer just didn't have the people skills. It wasn't as if he cared much, though. He'd pick solitude over popularity any day, even if that meant losing the girl.

Sawyer knew Kate never would have picked him over Jack Shephard anyway. Jack was a doctor, a top surgeon. Jack was charming. Jack had a great sense of humor. Jack was Jack, and Jack was perfect. Jack welcomed Kate with open arms, treated her like she was queen of the island, stuck with her after finding out she was a criminal, never severed ties after they were rescued, and celebrated with her when she was acquitted. Sawyer stood by and watched, not because he was that kind of person, but simply because he was tired of pursuing Kate. Because none of his attempts were successful. Because talking to, or even just thinking about Kate Austin was exhausting.

And now he had just agreed to attend a "get-together" with her and the other survivors of flight 815, where he would be forced to talk to her, and be around her.

_Bet it was the Doc's idea_, he thought, sleep beginning to overcome him. _That fucker always hated me_.

* * *

**A/N: **Reviews give me endorphins, and we all need endorphins.


End file.
